The Second Labyrinth: Fifteen Years Later Pt 1
by TBAWriter
Summary: Sarah is thirty years old and her husband has no idea what happened when she was fifteen. When he finds an old book in the storm cellar, she freaks out. Then she disappears a guy calling himself the Goblin King tells him he has thirteen hours to save her
1. Chapter 1

The Second Labyrinth

by Thomas Austin

Chapter One

"Hey, Sarah!" Dylan walked into the living room and set down a box on the table. "Check out what I found."

It had been ten years since Dylan Bruce met Sarah Williams in their senior year at college at four since they got married and moved to his family farm forty miles out of San Antonio. She had brought a lot of stuff with her, but the packed most of it away in the storm cellar without thinking of what it was. It was about time that they cleaned it out, he had thought, and he found some pretty interesting stuff down there.

She came out of the kitchen in shorts and a t-shirt, which was slightly stained with oil. She walked up and looked at the box as she put her arms around him from behind. "What is it?"

"How'd you get all that junk on your shirt? It was clean a minute ago!"

"Oh, I decided to try your mom's recipe for fried corn bread." She sighed and looked down at the shirt. "It kind of splattered."

"Did you get burned?"

"No," she groaned. "I didn't get burned. The shirt caught it." Kissing on the neck, she said, "Don't worry, I'm fine. Now what is it you found?"

He opened the box and said, "I found a bunch of your books. This one looks like a diary." He pulled out a tattered brown book and held it up. She reached for it, but he snatched it away and wriggled free from her. She grabbed for it again, but he ran to the other side of the living room and took a football stance. She laughed and charged him, reaching for the book and the last second, but ending up with his arms wrapped around her waist. They fell to the floor laughing, and Dylan dropped the book. She grabbed for it and looked at the cover.

"It's not a diary," she said. "It's just an old novel I used to like when I was a kid."

"Used to?" He put his hands behind his head as she rested her head on his chest. "What happened? Did you just stop liking it?"

She was leafing through the pages, and shut them all of a sudden, very forcefully. "Yes," she said. The tone in her voice changed completely, so that Dylan was a little nervous now. He picked his head up and said, "Dear, what happened?"

Sarah stood up and said, "I don't want to talk about it. Now supper's ready." She dropped the book into the box as she went into the kitchen.

Dylan got up and looked after her. He knew there were things that he didn't know about her past, but he had thought it was all little things. What was so special about this book that would get her so riled up? He picked up the book before going into the kitchen and took a second look at the title.

"_The Labyrinth_," he whispered.

* * *

All through supper, which was pretty good considering Sarah's usual cooking abilities, Dylan tried to make conversation, but Sarah was completely unresponsive. As they were cleaning up, he put his arms around her waist and kissed her on the back of the neck. She smiled and gave a little moan.

"Sarah," he whispered. "I'm really worried about you. What was in that book that-"

She tore herself away from him. "The book?" she screamed. "You want to know what's in that book? I want it out of here, Dylan. Gone!"

"What, do you want me to donate it to the library, or something?"

"Burn it." She stood there resolutely glaring at him. "That book nearly ruined my life. I want you to burn it!"

Burn it? He crossed his arms. "Isn't that against to librarian code, or something? You know, thou shalt not burn a book under any circumstance?"

"This isn't funny, Dylan."

"I'm not trying to be funny, but you're acting all crazy on me over some stupid book! Are you having PMS or something?" As soon as he said it, Dylan had known that he was going to be hurt. "I am such an idiot."

"Yes, you are," she said, as she marched up to him and slapped him across the face. She turned from him and sat at the table. "Dylan, I'm sorry. I am acting crazy, and it is just a stupid book, but there are things in there that, well, that shouldn't be read."

"This isn't some kind of Lovecraftian Necronomicon is it?" He sat down next to her and took her hand in his. It was so small compared to his linebacker's paws that both her hands almost fit into one of his.

She laughed. "No, it's just-just get rid of it okay? Don't burn it, but I don't want to see it anymore. Throw it in the wood chipper for all I care."

He nodded. "Okay. I'll go do that right now." As he stood, he cradled her chin in his hand. She smiled up at him tiredly. When he leaned down to kiss her, she put her arms around his neck and let him pull her to her feet, the two of them still kissing. When they finally broke the kiss, she was sitting on the kitchen table. He said, "Wow, and they all said I was crazy for marrying a Yankee girl."

"I love you, Dill." She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I love you too, Sarah." He hadn't come up with a cute nickname that could be made from her name. They held each other for almost a minute before she swatted his hip.

With a laugh, she said, "Now go take care of that book, all right?"

"All right! I'll get rid of it." He walked into the living room and picked the book off the table. It was open. He could have sworn that he had set it down closed. Huh, they didn't have a cat or anything. Maybe Ambrosia, their German shepherd-no he couldn't have done it. Whatever. He read a passage as he carried it out to the wood chipper, speaking as he read, "And the varlet stood and cried out in anguish, for his terror had been made real this very night. Then he cried out to the winds, 'Goblin King, Goblin King, take my love away from me!'"

He didn't hear Sarah as she ran out from the kitchen calling his name in a panicked frenzy.

He continued reading, "As the man stood on the parapet, nothing happened. In his anguish, he said, 'I wish the Goblin King would come and take her away.'" He laughed out loud. He said, "Sarah, you hear that cra-?"

He didn't see Sarah standing there.

"Sarah?" He shut the book and looked in the kitchen. "Sarah," he called, in a singsong voice. "Where are you?" Still holding the book, he looked through the kitchen, and then in all the rooms. "Sarah, are you hiding from me?" He started laughing. Even though she was a full thirty years old, Sarah still liked to play little games with him. Of course, the outcome was generally a bit more—mature—than children's games. As he started up the stairs, the lights went out.

"Sarah?" he called again, this time getting a bit more nervous. Was she messing with the fuse box? No, she'd have had to pass him to get to the basement. He heard, but didn't feel, a wind blowing through the house as clouds seemed to gather outside the windows. They were black and thick. "Sarah! There's a tornado coming!" He ran up the stairs to see if she was there. Nothing. He heard someone moving downstairs. It sounded like there were a lot of them. Ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty. It sounded like someone was having a party in his house and there was a blasted tornado coming. He went to his office and grabbed a shotgun out of its box.

"Sarah, I've got my gun! Stay where you are, there's someone here! If you're not Sarah, get out of my house!" He finished loading the shotgun and rushed downstairs with it ready to fire. Nothing. There was no one there. The clouds were continuing to gather. He said, "Sarah, this stopped being funny! Come on, we need to get to the storm shelter!"

"Sarah's not here," someone said behind him.

Dylan whirled around, ready to fire, but there was no one there.

The man's voice spoke again. "Sarah's not here, and there's no point in waving that gun around. You can't hurt me, Dylan."

"Who are you?" he shouted. "Where are you? How did you get into my house? Where is my wife?"

Out of nothing, a man appeared in front of him, dressed in white spandex pants and a frilly shirt that made him look like a freaking pirate. The man had white hair that made him look like a peacock and—was he wearing makeup?

The man said, "Your wife isn't hear anymore. I took her-"

Before he knew what he was doing, Dylan pulled the trigger. The smoke filled the room, and the noise deafened him temporarily, but he knew that he had shot the man. Great, he was probably unarmed, too. Before he could contemplate what to tell the police, he was shocked to see the man still standing there, only more annoyed than before.

"Didn't I tell you that wouldn't work?" He groaned and looked at his shirt, which now had buckshot holes in it. "Honestly, you mortals think your guns will solve anything."

"Mortals? What are you talking about?" Dylan lowered the gun and said again, "Who are you?"

The strange man groaned and said, "Fool, I'm the Goblin King! You asked me to take your wife and-"

"I was reading a kid's book!"

"Listen, Dylan." The Goblin King pointed his finger at him and said, "You called my name and wished for me to take Sarah away from you, and that's what I've done. It doesn't matter what you think, and if you interrupt me one more time, you'll never see her again." His voice took a certain affectation that seemed very menacing to Dylan for some reason.

He said, "What do I have to do to get her back?"

The Goblin King tapped the book, which he was now holding for some reason, and said, "Go through my labyrinth to my Goblin City and take her back. I'll make the same deal for you as I did for her, all those years ago. Thirteen hours, or else she's mine."

"Years ago? What happened?"

"She didn't tell you?" The Goblin King laughed. "Oh, I shouldn't be surprised. I suppose it was rather traumatic. She probably doesn't realize I'm still alive, at least, not yet." He took out a glass ball and began playing with it in his hand. "Don't worry about the clouds. It's not a tornado, just-covering your house for a little while," he said, looking up with a malicious smile. "So we can't have any interruption." Then, as if by magic, Dylan noticed that the single glass ball had become three, as if the other two had come out of it. He was transfixed by them, though he knew that someone calling himself the Goblin King would probably be putting him under some kind of spell. He broke his gaze from the glass balls and glared at the Goblin King. "Pity, I almost had you."

Dylan said, "I want to know what you did to her. Back then."

The Goblin King walked up to him and whispered in his ear, "Then ask her when—I mean—if you save her. Remember, thirteen hours, starting now." While Dylan still felt the man's hot breath on his cheek, everything around him was gone. He was standing on a forest path, unlike any he had ever seen in Texas, and was still holding his shotgun. As he started walking, he heard the Goblin King's voice in the trees say, "And if you bring that gun, I will kill her as soon as you step foot in the labyrinth."

Dylan set the gun against a tree, knowing that he was probably giving it up for good. If it meant getting Sarah back, he'd do it. Of course, the Goblin King didn't say anything about the six-inch blade pocket knife he carried with him everywhere. As he walked down the path, he saw a walled maze ahead of him. It sure did look like a labyrinth all right, circular motion of the maze and everything. Of course, this was seemed different. There were three focal points. Dylan was no idiot, and he had actually read some of Sarah's mythology and literature books that she brought home from working at the library every week. They were supposed to have one, and the worst thing was, each focal point in the labyrinth was a city. This was going to be hard, but he had to do it.

He came to the wall, and it looked like it was made of some kind of hard stone, but not any kind that he'd ever seen, and he worked as a landscaper building walls. He walked along until he found a gate, but it was closed. There wasn't a guard, so he walked up and took the handle. It pulled open very easily. That was a bad sign. It told him that the Goblin King wanted him to go in. He sighed and went in anyway. When the gates closed behind him, he knew that he was in for a real ride.

He was in a single passageway; he could go either left or right, but they both looked the same. He had never gone in for much philosophy, but where magic was concerned, he figured things should look different than they really are, so he chose left and ran his right hand along the wall as he walked. Eventually, he found a break in the wall. He stepped back and congratulated himself, because he would not have seen it otherwise. Before he went in, he heard what sounded like a very high-pitched Cockney accent behind him and whirled around. As he looked, he saw a fuzzy worm sitting on a rock at his eye level.

The worm spoke to him. It said, "You're not going in there, are you?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "I kind of have to. I have to get to the Goblin City."

"Oh! Are you crazy?" The worm wriggled its way to the edge of the brick it was sitting on and practically touched his nose. That's the last place you want to go in there."

Dylan laughed. A talking worm just called him crazy. He said, "Look, I don't know if I took too much Sudafed or what today, but I've been seeing some weird stuff for the last fifteen minutes, and I have less than thirteen hours to get there before my wife belongs to the Goblin King forever." He stood up and turned away. "Why am I talking to a worm?"

"Oh, a worm, am I?" It wriggled in defiance. "Well, I am a worm, but that doesn't mean I'm not a good conversationalist. I like to read. I have quite the library of books."

"Don't," Dylan said putting a finger up. "Don't say it."

The worm huffed. "Most people laugh when I say it."

"Sorry, but Sarah makes the bookworm joke a lot."

"Sarah? I remember her!"

Dylan moved in close to the worm. Excited, he said, "Oh, can you help me?"

"Me? I'm just worm, but you might want to know that Jareth's castle is in the north Goblin City. There's three of them in this labyrinth. He only finished it last year. The other one fell over."

"Jareth? Is that the Goblin King?"

"Yes, he is. You be careful of that one, or you'll regret it."

"All right, thanks." He started into the opening in the wall, and thought that he heard the worm say, "Of course, you may not live long enough for that."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello, Sarah." Jareth's voice was cold and steely, kicking Sarah in the gut with the memory of it even before she opened her eyes.

She had been knocked unconscious—or had she fainted?—when the goblins grabbed her. Oh, Dylan, why didn't you listen to me? She cracked open her eyes and looked up at Jareth. He looked exactly as she remembered, only angrier; his stare was icy and forbidding. She started to speak, but he held up a finger. Normally, it would have simply been to order her to be silent. However, Jareth was not human, which she remembered as she tried to speak and no sound came out. She screamed at him silently, kicking at him, but only ending up flailing wildly. She tried to kick him in the knees, and then the groin, but her foot veered off each time as if his body was in equal magnetic polarity with hers Finally realizing that fighting was futile, she settled down and rested her back against the rough hewn stone wall.

Jareth nodded his approval and said, "Well, you still have that fighting spirit in you. Let's see if we can keep it in check. This isn't like last time, you know. Toby was perfectly safe with me. You're not."

"What do you want with me?" she blurted, speaking even before she realized she could.

He chuckled. "I want you. I did what your husband asked me."  
"Liar!"

"He read the book, Sarah, even after you told him to throw it away, and you, a librarian. I'm ashamed of you."

"You changed the book, feather brain!"

"Feather brain? How funny. It's because of the owl, isn't it?"

Sarah gave him a malicious grin. She made a blasting laugh, so forceful it was obviously faked. There weren't any chains on her, but she knew the kind of prison she was in. Jareth was using magic on her, to either keep her in that corner—she hadn't tried to get out—or to keep her away from hurting him—which she had tried to do. "You changed the book," she said, the grin vanishing into a murderous look.

"Did I?" Jareth brought his hand to his mouth in feigned shock and took a mockingly contemplative stance. It seemed as if he was posing for some fashion magazine, with the disgustingly coy pout that he had affected. He turned his head to speak, but stopped, still mocking her in the faked contemplation of the accusation. Then, the mockery vanishing, he set his fists on his hips and stared down at her. "Perhaps I did. The fool still read it. Your husband asked me to bring you here."

"He didn't know."

"Did you? Did you know what you were doing when you asked me to take your brother fifteen years ago? Have you told him?"

"He wouldn't have believed me."

"Toby did."

"He was five when I told him. He would have believed anything I told him."

"It makes no difference. Anyway, I gave your lovely husband the same deal I made you. Thirteen hours. It's a little harder this time."

"Oh?"

"I have three Goblin Cities now, and if you say that's not fair, I'll find some dreadful thing to do to you."

"Oh, I know not to say that to you. I've grown up."

"So you have." He ran a lecherous eye over her body. She was still dressed in the shorts and t-shirt, and scowled uncomfortably as she curled into a fetal position while covering her chest with her arms. He laughed and said, "You're acting as if I can see through clothing. Silly girl. You were always a silly girl. A stupid girl, and a silly girl, and a very selfish girl."

She wanted to scream at him, to tell him to shut up, but she knew that it would only prove his point, at least to him. Instead, she said nothing, making sure that her face did not change as he spoke to her, insulting her. She did not get a look of pride, or annoyance, or anything that would show his words had any affect on her whatsoever. If he truly had no power over her, than she needed to back it up by not letting his words do anything to her. If he truly had no power over her...no power over her...she did nothing. She pushed herself up and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her. "So, now what?"

He scowled, obviously upset that his words were doing nothing to provoke her, and then got a malicious grin. "Well, little Dylan has been hunting for about an hour now, so he has twelve more before you become mine forever."

"You're not going to try anything of this, 'I love you, I'll be your slave,' idiocy again, are you?"

This time, he laughed. It was a very goblinoid laugh. She had never really thought that he was a goblin, possibly a fey in command of them, or even something else, but not a goblin. The most disconcerting part of it was the fact that the goblin laugh was coming from someone who appeared, at least usually, to be human, but also that it sounded like something that could come from a normal human's mouth. It was a kind of giggle, a cackle and chortle all mixed with a few high pitched guffaws.

Jareth stood when he was finished laughing at her and said, "Oh, no, Sarah. I don't want you to be my consort-" Sarah cringed at the idea. "-I want to make you my slave. It should be starting now, in fact. Look at your arms, Sarah. In twelve hours, you'll be a goblin."

Sarah looked at her arms in disbelief. There, on her previously pale arms—she had never been able to tan, even in Texas—were scales. They were already hardened and cracking; it looked like it might have been very bad psoriasis. However, the way that the hard skin cracked looked very much like scales. The color that was peeking out was a very pale green, like a gangrenous rash. She scratched at it; it didn't itch, but in her panic, she though she may be able to stop it, take the scales off her. She looked at him in fear. Did he really have no power over her, or was she just lying to herself, fifteen years ago?

* * *

Dylan stepped through the polished redwood door and looked around. So far, there hadn't been too many twists that he had to make. In fact, almost all of it was straight through. Yeah, it did turn a lot, but it was all the same path. He remembered that labyrinths weren't the same as mazes. They followed the same path, just twisting and turning a lot. With this one, it would take a lot longer than thirteen hours to get through it. After an hour and a half, he realized he was going nowhere and needed to find a shortcut. Soon, he found a door. It had been right there in front of him, just as soon as he wished for it. Too easy. It had to be a trap, he told himself. He passed the door right up.

This door was different. He had to look for it. He had been walking, just thinking about how labyrinths simply went forward without dead ends or—a dead end. He reached a dead end. This was more like it, he thought. I'm dealing with some kind of magic guy and he finally decides to throw me a curve ball. He looked around, turning a few times until he noticed some plants around the courtyard that didn't seem to be there before. Maybe they were, maybe they weren't. Either way, the entire courtyard seemed filled with palm trees, like some garden oasis.

The fruit on the trees seemed pretty good, like dates, but he didn't pick it. Sarah had told him about fairy food, and that seemed to be what he was dealing with. He finally understood her fascination with folklore and fairies. She had actually dealt with them before. In fact, the way she read books on them and wrote children's stories about them—she had gotten one published a few months ago—didn't seem like the fairytale kind of fascination that most children and adult who never grew up had. It was almost morbid, in fact. It seemed as if she had been...preparing.

A tiny pixie-like fairy buzzed out of the palm tree and watched him. It looked like a glittering little woman with wings. He tilted his head and stared back at her. Gruffly, he said, "What do you want?"

When he said that, the humanoid bug flew up in his face and bit him on the cheek. He yowled and backhanded the pest so hard she flew against a tree trunk and fell to the ground, not moving. His face felt wet, and he saw blood dripping onto his shirt. He put his hand to the wound and found it bleeding quite profusely. Tearing off a sleeve from his shirt, he pressed it to his face and tied it around like a bandage. "Fairies bad," he said to himself, in that jokingly neanderthal English that he used when he wanted to remind himself of something. "Dumb pests are like more annoying black flies. Stupid chiggers."

As he was ranting about the fairy-bite, he leaned against the wall behind the palm, and noticed something that looked like a door. It was embedded in the wall, and didn't have a recognizable frame. He put his hand on it and moved cautiously in front of it. It was like a curtain, but a wooden one. He pushed on it with both hands, but nothing happened. He pushed on one end, and then the other. Still, nothing happened.

"You have to pull," someone said.

He turned to see who was talking, and the person spoke again, repeating himself.

"Who's there?"

"I'm right next to you. Look up."

He looked up and didn't see anyone up there. However, it did look like the palm had a face carved into it. It looked human, though the features were slightly exaggerated. Then it spoke. "I said you have to pull, on the door. It doesn't open by pushing."

A talking palm tree. Well, he thought, better than a snake telling me to have a snack. He said, "There isn't a handle."

"Of course there is." The tree laughed. The tree laughed. A tree was laughing at him. The other trees started laughing too. Palm trees were laughing at him. Either this was the strangest dream he ever had, some kind of acid flashback, or everything he knew about science was wrong. He knew he wasn't sleeping and he had never even done acid, so he ran with it.

He said, "Is it invisible?"

"No," the tree said, shaping the words with its lips. "You just can't see it."

"Doesn't that mean the same thing as invisible?" He leaned against the door and smiled.

"Of course not!"

"So it means something else."

"That would follow."

"What does it mean?"  
"You tell me."

He looked at the door, or panel, or whatever it was. There was no handle there. It was completely smooth and polished. It looked like redwood, and good quality redwood at that. He ran his hand over the spot where the handle should have been and said, "It's hidden."

The trees shook their branches as they raised a cheer for him. He couldn't resist letting a big grin grow on his face. Trees were cheering him on. He looked at the door and said, "It's also not on the wood itself." The trees gave another cheer.

He looked at the tree with a smirk and said, "I know where it is." The tree began to get nervous, and then started shouting at him, "What are you doing?" as he shimmied up the trunk and began to pick the dates off it. Finally, he grabbed one that wouldn't budge. He looked in the face of the tree, which was now parallel with him and scowling at him, and said, "Let it go."

"No, get down!"

He yanked on the date, and the tree gave a shout. He said, "That doesn't hurt! You told me to pull, and this is the key!"

"No it's not!"

He wrapped his legs around the tree trunk and held onto the date for support as he drew the knife out of his pocket. Flicking it open, he said, "I used to carve my initials into trees for fun. I like whittling too."

Before he said another word, he was tumbling backward with the date in his hand. He fell the ten feet to the hard stone, but rolled when he landed so that it wouldn't hurt too much. It still hurt, though. He looked at the tree triumphantly and went to the door, which was now swung open, and opened it further, ignoring the angry muttering of the tree. Try to play games with me, will you? He wasn't going to be played by a tree. Then, he stepped through the polished redwood door and looked around. It seemed to be a hallway going perpendicular to him. A shortcut in the labyrinth? That's good. Maybe there were more.


	3. Chapter 3

On the other side of the door, there was a long hallway, lined with rough stone walls. Dylan started walking, careful to watch his step. He didn't want to run into any traps. Of course, blowguns shooting darts at him was probably going to be less likely than a cactus running up and kicking him in the shins in this place. He put his hand in his pocket and fiddled with the pocketknife, just in case he saw a cactus. The hall seemed to go straight, and didn't seem to slope up or down. He thought it was strange. The labyrinth curved in every place, but here it was straight, for over a hundred yards. Then he realized it. The labyrinth had shortcuts.

It made sense. Did a goblin king want his servants to have to take the entire route, which had looked like it could go for miles from the outside, in order to do anything? He'd put in shortcuts for them, and keep them hidden so people like Dylan Bruce wouldn't find them and get to the Goblin City too early. Dylan chuckled and began jogging down the path. Soon, he realized that he wasn't really getting anywhere. Nothing was changing. Everything in the hall was exactly the same. This was even worse than the first hall when he entered. At least that looked different as he was walking through it. This—this didn't even change. He started running again, sprinting now, and the torch holders in the walls just sped by him. He turned around, to see how far he'd come and froze in terror.

How much time had he spent in here? Was it ten, fifteen minutes? Longer? How much time had he wasted? He had thought he was taking a shortcut, going down a hall to get to the next part of the labyrinth. Instead, he was running in place, with the door right behind him. He hadn't moved. He turned and tried walking down the hall. The torches moved. He stopped. The torches stopped. He ran. The torches moved in time. He stopped again. The torches stopped again. When he tried to open the door to get out, it was locked. In fact, the handle had turned to the same kind of heavy wood as the door. He screamed in rage and beat the wall of his prison cell with the side of his fist.

* * * * *

Jareth laughed with triumph and derision as he watched Dylan in one of his glass balls. Sarah sat on the other side of the ball, also watching. Her transformation had no progressed much further than before, though the skin on her arms was harder and somewhat scalier. Her hair was hanging down, ragged and very much in need of brushing from her grabbing at it in her emotional torment. She watched Dylan through the ball in silence, keeping her mouth thin, hard and emotionless. Betraying any emotion to Jareth would be admitting defeat. She turned her eyes up to Jareth with hatred.

"Do you think you've got him?"

He stopped laughing and smirked at her. "Of course I do. He's trapped. There's no way out of there."

"You're lying." She smirked back at him. "You would never install a trap you couldn't get out of yourself."

"Do you think he has the power to beat my traps? Do you think he has the power to beat my labyrinth?"

"I did it when I fifteen."

Jareth stood up and set the ball down on a table. He frowned and said, "That was a different labyrinth. I've built this one up, newer, bigger, and much more powerful. I'm a different opponent, Sarah. You can't defeat me."

"And he is a different opponent from what I was." The entire time, she did not move from her cross-legged position on the floor.

"Yes," he said. "I know. He doesn't have your little friends." He smiled wickedly and said, "They're dead, Sarah. I killed them all. Sir Didymus, his dog Ambrosius, Luto. Hoggle got the worst of it. He was begging me to kill him at the end of it, so I did." He gave a final laugh and walked out of the room.

Sarah screamed and grabbed her head. Falling to the floor, she curled into a fetal position and screamed again. Dead? Her friends were dead? It couldn't be true. It wasn't true! This is all wrong. It's all turned upside-down and backwards. Cockeyed and wrong. Upside down and backwards. She started sobbing.

* * * * *

As Dylan sat on the floor of the torchlit room, he counted the torches. Five on either side. He stood up and took one of the torches down from its socket and started walking. Sure enough, every fifth torch on that side of the wall was missing. He was on a stinking treadmill, and the walls went with it. He almost tried to figure out how that worked, but remembered it was magic. Instead, he started humming an love song He had written for Sarah soon after they started dating. When he got to the chorus, he thought he heard her voice. He stopped singing.

There it was again. Could he really hear her? What was it she said? Upside-down and backwards? What could that mean? He turned to the door. Walking away from it wasn't getting anywhere. Sarah had been in the labyrinth before. If he was hearing her here, maybe she could actually help him. He had tried walking away from the door, but had he really? He was walking down the hallway, toward the other side, but not away from the door. That's wasn't what he wasn't thinking of, anyway. He started walking backwards.

At least the door seemed to be moving away from him. That was new. Probably good. As he went, he counted even more torches on the walls. The hallway stretched on for more, until the door seemed to even disappear at the end of the hall. Finally, when it did disappear, he ran into something. He had hit a wall—or a door? On testing with his hand, he found a handle, and it was metal! He didn't turn around, for fear that this might turn out to be another part of the same trap, and pushed the door open. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out backwards and shut the door behind—in front of?—him.

He turned around and was relieved when he saw a whole new walkway, outside and without talking palm trees. He started walking and swore when something stung his leg. He whipped out the knife and jumped away. What was it? He looked around, but didn't see anything. The mysterious attacker stung his other leg now. He slashed at the...whatever it was, but didn't hit anything. He thought he heard something shout. It was a high pitched shout that sounded like someone fighting. He stooped and swung the knife toward where the shout came from. The blade was stopped by a shield. A dog was holding the shield, and he was riding...another dog.

Dylan said, "Now who do you think you are?"

The dog with the sword and shield—the sword was barely larger that Dylan's knife—shouted again and swung at him. Dylan blocked easily by grabbing the dog's wrist—paw?—between his thumb, forefinger and middle finger. He looked at the attacker in bored disdain and said, "Answer my question."

"I must tell you nothing!" the dog said in a high pitched, angry voice. He looked like a Yorkie with a little mixing of some other breeds thrown in. The dog he was riding was an English sheepdog. The Yorkie spat at him.

Dylan said, "I could break your wrist easily. Do you really want to do that?"

"Go ahead!"

Dylan groaned. "Listen," he said. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will. I've already killed a fairy for biting me and threatened a talking palm tree with carving into it. I'm just trying to find my wife, so if you don't get out of my way, I will destroy you."

The Yorkie seemed to calm down and said in a less angry, but still high pitched, voice, "You are a foe of Jareth?"

"Yes," Dylan said suspiciously.

"Well then! We are allies, for foes of Jareth are allies of Sir Didymus and Ambrosius!"

Dylan let go of his paw and crouched down in front of the Yorkie and said, "So which one are you?"

"What? What do you mean? I am Sir Didymus, of course!"

"Aha, and who is Ambrosius?" That name sounded familiar to Dylan. Their dog. Was that why Sarah wanted to name her Ambrosia?

Sir Didymus sat up proudly and said, "My steed." He gently kicked the sheepdog in the sides to further indicate his answer. "We fought in the great battle of the old Goblin City, which resulted in the collapse of the First Labyrinth."

"I see, so would you know of a woman named Sarah?" This was sounding familiar.

The Yorkie got a shocked look on his face. Dylan still wonders how a Yorkie could get a shocked look on his face. "My lady Sarah?" he said. Even Ambrosius, the sheepdog, seemed to be excited. "Is she well?"

Dylan shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Listen, it sounds like you are on good terms with her. My name is Dylan Bruce. I'm Sarah's husband. We've been married for about four years now, but she's been kidnapped by Jareth. I have-" He looked at his watch and swore. "Ten hours to get her out of wherever he's keeping her before she becomes his."

Now it was Sir Didymus' turn to curse. He said, "I pledge my sword and my lance to you, Dylan Bruce. As long as Jareth remains in power, I shall work to end his tyranny."

"I just want to get Sarah back."

"And that cannot happen as long as Jareth remains in power. He will never leave you alone."

Dylan stood and said, "Now what did I ever do to him?"

"Oh, it is not what you did, but Lady Sarah. She destroyed his labyrinth, the first one, when he kidnapped her brother Toby."

"Fifteen years ago? Toby would have been just a baby."

"Yes, Sarah wished him away, though she did not know what she was doing, and had to run the labyrinth to get him back. When she did, she broke Jareth's power, and the labyrinth fell to dust."

"And so he built up a bigger one."

"That is right, sir. Now, we must hurry, or else we will be too late! Onward, Ambrosius!" Sir Didymus spurred on the sheepdog, who started running at a full gallop. Dylan ran alongside them, hoping they knew where they were going.

* * * * *

Back in Jareth's palace, Sarah looked up from where she was weeping with a full and murderous hate in her eyes. She knew it wouldn't do to simply kill him. No, she had to do more than that. If Hoggle had begged to die, she would make him do the same, only she wouldn't give in to begging. She stood and looked around. What was here that she could use? The glass ball. She picked it up and tried to find some way to hide it. A t-shirt and shorts weren't the best clothing to hide something the size of a grapefruit, so she held onto it and went to the door. It was locked.

Looking around, she found the window. She looked out and saw that she was over a hundred feet up, and in the tallest tower no less. Very original, Jareth. Nice. She decided to tuck in her shirt and shoved the glass ball down her shirt. There was a narrow ledge below the window, so she stepped out and onto it, though it was barely four inches wide. Fortunately, the side of the tower was carved, allowing her handholds. When she had inched her way to the other side of the tower, she realized she had nowhere to go. She was over a hundred feet up from the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

Sarah clung to the wall, afraid of losing her grip, but also too afraid to go back in. The wind whipped around her, threatening to throw her from the tower. The cold air bit against her mostly bare legs and arms, freezing her and making her skin hurt from the cold alone. She gripped a stone and pulled herself around to face the wall; now she had both hands on the wall. Jareth's crystal was still inside her shirt, kept from falling by the t-shirt being tucked into her shorts. Her hair flew in front of her eyes, as if betraying her to the wind and trying to do the deed of throwing her from the wall. She could not see anything, and even had to close her eyes so it would not get in. She was spitting hair out of her mouth and the follicles, which had seemed to take a life of their own, were even getting into her nostrils. Then, to make matters worse, she heard Jareth walk into the room inside.

He screamed. Was that a scream of anger, or panic? Sarah couldn't tell. He screamed her name, and she inched her way around the tower. She came in view of the window, and Jareth was standing with his head out, looking down and looking around. She began to panic when he turned his head and saw her.

"Sarah, reach out your hand. I'll pull you in." He held his hand out, though he was a good ten feet away.

"Are you kidding me?" she screamed. "What, you'll pull me in with your magic? I know how that works! You grab onto me and then you'll just let me drop."

"No, Sarah. I don't want to kill you!"

"No," she laughed, almost maniacally in her panic. "No, you'll just torture me, kill my friends, send my husband on the same quest you sent me on and turn me into a freaking goblin!"

Jareth scowled at her. "Sarah, I'm just trying to help you. You don't know-"

"Help me?" She screamed animalistically at him. She had meant it to be a "hah!" but it came out more as if she was screaming like a wild ape...or a goblin. "Help me? You think you can help me this way? Jareth, if you want to help me, leave me alone!"

"You don't know what you've done to me, Sarah. You've trapped me. I can't escape you."

"Oh, don't start with that 'I'll be your slave' stalker crap. Seriously, if you do, I'll come over there just to break that pretty little nose of yours, and I could, too!"

Jareth reached out to her. She could feel his magic pulling on her, but she resisted the best that she could. His face contorted into the rage of a man who's lost his prize, and is trying to get it back. Well, Sarah wasn't going to be anyone's prize. Even Dylan didn't treat her that way. Jareth always had treated as such. Her hate and rage against him turned to the will for survival. She could feel her body turning more goblinoid as she clung there. He was hastening the transformation. As Jareth reached out to her, using his magic against her, he said, "Sarah, if you know what you do to me, if you truly understood what it is you're capable, you wouldn't put your husband through this. You'd come inside with me."

She pitched her head back and screamed a final time before letting go of the wall. Jareth screamed her name as she fell backward, streaming down to the ground. The crystal came out of her shirt, pushing through the bottom, and fell just above her. As she felt the ground flying up beneath her, she put her hands, now green and scale-encrusted, around the crystal. Then, she put her hands on the crystal and, in its reflection, saw the ground directly below her.

* * *

Dylan stopped running. Sir Didymus rode ahead a short way, but stopped and turned when he realized he was alone. He returned to Dylan and said, "Dylan, we must make haste, or else we will be too late to save Lady Sarah!"

"I-" Dylan stared at the cobblestones beneath his feet. Something was wrong. He was going the wrong way. Was he? Was he on the right path, but needed to turn somewhere? He looked around and, where he previously had seen a straight corridor, he saw a five-way intersection. Sir Didymus looked around and noticed the change. His sword was out in a flash.

"What madness is this?" he shouted. "Here, villains! What sorcery are you doing? Show yourselves and let us fight!"

Dylan ignored the small knight's barking and paced the perimeter of the intersection. Beside each of the corridors, there was a statue that had a wolf's head, an eagle's wings and back, a bear's torso and forelegs, and a raccoon's hind legs and tail. They were all identical. He stopped in front of one and said, "Can you speak?"

The statue stirred and said, "Of course, I can speak, you great fool." It's voice was deep and gravelly-a fitting description for a stone statue-and it seemed annoyed at being woken up. "What do you want?"

"This was a straight corridor a moment ago."

"No it wasn't, you great fool. You just weren't looking correctly." The statue stirred again, as if settling back into sleep.

Dylan peered into its face and said, "Hey, I'm talking to you. Don't go to sleep now."

All five statues opened their eyes and stared at him. Sir Didymus waved his sword around, anxious to fight, but scared to act. Ambrosius was simply scared to act. Dylan stared into the eyes of the first statue. They seemed to glow with a faint gray light. They moved their shoulders, as if getting ready to strike. Dylan said, "I want to know which way to go."

The statue laughed. "I can't tell you that."

"I need to get to the Goblin City. The main one."

"There is one Goblin City."

Dylan narrowed his eyes. "I've seen three from the outside."

"Well," the statue said. "That is because you are a great fool. There is one Goblin City, as there is one Goblin King."

"I'm trying to get to the main city."

"I told you already, there is one Goblin City."

"The one with the throne room."

The statue stirred again, but Dylan thought that it might have been with anxiety. "Now why would you want to do a thing like that?"

Dylan looked at Sir Didymus, and the Yorkie nodded as if to agree with Dylan telling it the truth. Dylan nodded back and turned to the statue. "The Goblin King kidnapped my wife," he said. "I'm trying to find her."

"Well," the statue replied. "You don't want the throne room. You want the tallest tower."

Dylan brought his hand to his face and said, "Of course. I should have seen that coming." He looked back up at the statue and said, "Can you tell me which way to go?"

"No. I really don't know that."

He looked back at the other four statues and said, "Would they?"

"No. They do not."

Dylan nodded and said, "Thanks." He walked to the center of the intersection and turned slowly, examining the five corridors. They all looked the same. They were not equal in distance from each other. The one from which he came seemed to be set apart, with the other four being at the far end of the room. He raised an eyebrow and turned his head back the way he came. When he started walking that way, Sir Didymus called out, "But sir Dylan, that is whence we came! Would you give up and go back now?"

"I'm not giving up," he called. "I'm going forward!"

Sir Didymus followed him and said, "I don't understand. Did we pass something back here?"

"No, it's just that this is the way to the Goblin City."

"How do you know this?"

"If it isn't we're screwed. Is there anything else I should know? Anything I need to do?"

Sir Didymus thought for a few minutes as he rode alongside Dylan. He looked up and said, "We should find Sir Hoggle. He has been in hiding from Jareth for some years now. He knows the Under Corridors of the Labyrinth better than anyone I can think of, save Jareth, of course."

"Well, let's hope he's still alive. When's the last time you saw him?"

"Oh, three years ago."

"Let's hope he's still alive."

* * *

Sarah lay still on the ground, still holding the crystal. She should be dead. Her back, at the very least, should be broken. Why wasn't she dead? Over a hundred foot drop and she wasn't dead. Why wasn't she dead? Wait, was she wishing now that she was dead? Maybe she was, after the things Jareth had said. No, he had no power over her. He had no power over her. He had no power over her!

She sat upright and shouted the words, "You have no power over me!" Then, she looked around and realized there was nothing around her. Absolutely nothing. It was all gray. No sky, no ground, though she could feel one beneath her feet. Nothing to differentiate anything from anything else. The only thing that was not gray in this asphodelic Limbo was her. She wasn't dressed in her short shorts and t-shirt anymore. She was in a light green sleeveless dress that hung down to her ankles, and she was barefoot. Her hair hung behind her. She was still holding the crystal.

It was when she saw the crystal that she realized the effects of the goblinizing were gone. She was human again. Where was she? Maybe she was dead. She started walking, though she could not see anything that she could be walking on. Was this a part of the Labyrinth? Was it another trick of Jareth's, like the magic peach when she was fifteen? She had jumped off a tower and would have died on impact. She was dead, she knew it. For some reason, she was not panicking about the fact.

She looked around to see a blue-eyed Grim Reaper walk up to her, but no. Nothing. Was she stuck in Limbo because she killed herself? If that was the case, then why did she still have the crystal? She looked into and saw Jareth storming around his castle, ranting and throwing goblins around. She chuckled. He was pissed, and there was nothing he could do about it. Wait, Dylan! Dylan was still in the Labyrinth. He could take it out on Dylan. She had to find some way to help him.

The image in the crystal changed to Dylan. He was walking with...Sir Didymus and Ambrosius! That dirty rat had lied to her! He was just trying to cause her pain! She said something that had once made Dylan blush with shock on hearing his pretty wife say it. As she devolved into a ranting string of curses and obscenities, the image in the crystal turned to a chaotic cloud of fire, war and smoke. She looked in and the plasmic vision began to clear up into a clear crystal again. She turned her thoughts back to Dylan and saw him again.

Then, she sat down and began weeping. The crystal was in her lap as she let her tears fall on it. She could not stop crying, so she simply let it come. Soon, she curled up in a fetal position, cuddling the crystal, now slick with her tears, and fell asleep.

* * *

Back in the Labyrinth, Dylan turned to Sir Didymus and said, "Something's happened. I have a feeling this is going to be harder than I had thought."


End file.
